y, putting into his tones every timbre
of quiet, compelling will. "Listen, hear me!"

Slowly the feverish man grew still.

"Hear me," said Dupin. "There are two questions--two, only two. You are
to answer them.--You will shake your head, 'Yes,' or 'No'--do you hear
me?"

The Chasseur's eyes opened wide, and they were calm.

"Good, that's the brave gentleman! Now then, steady. The first question:
Shall we shoot this American?"

Slowly, painfully, the head rocked on the pillow, from one side to the
other.

"It's 'No'!" cried a score of men.

"Silence!" roared the Tiger. "Now, the second question: Does this order
come from Marshal Bazaine?"

Michel's chin sank to his breast. He groaned, he could not lift it
again.

"Yes, thank----" Ney himself, his voice!

Dupin swung round. "Colonel Lopez," he ordered savagely, "you will turn
your prisoner over to Sergeant Ney, at once, sir! Open your mouth, you
dog, and every Dragooning dandy of a Mexican among you----"

The Tiger's pistols were drawn. His whelps looked hopeful. The
cuirassiers bristled in sympathy.

Cracking his finger nails, fawning to the marrow, Lopez agreed.

"Unbind the prisoner," ordered Dupin.

"Thank God!" came faintly from the bed.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE WHISPER OF THE SPHINX

"La politique, premiere des sciences inexactes."
--_Emile Augier._

Jacqueline had divined in Bazaine another obstacle to her mission. And
yet it seemed preposterous that he should not be her staunchest ally,
since Napoleon had found a marshal's baton for him in his knapsack, just
as he had transformed his own policeman's club into a sceptre.
Nevertheless Jacqueline had her doubts, and they were homage to her sex.
In other words, she returned to Mexico to find that His Excellency had
married again.

The very day after her arrival she called to see her dear friend, now
Madame la Marechale. The two women were hardly more than girls, but who
shall fathom the depth of their guile? They kissed each other
affectionately on the cheek, and while the marshal was in the other
room, reading the packet Jacqueline had brought him from Napoleon, they
expressed earnestly their joy at meeting again.

When Bazaine returned, madame rose to leave them to their "stupid state
affairs." The marshal smiled, knowing how ravenous was his bride for the
same stupid affairs of state, but Jacqueline agreed that indeed they
were wearisome. Of course